Gone
by AquilaCadens
Summary: Hermione has been missing for 3 years. Harry isn't giving up the search. What happens when he finds her and her life is much more complicated than he could've predicted? Can he save her or will she be gone forever? EWE
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Story set after the war, canon compliant, excepting the epilogue. Harry/Hermione pairing. Here is the warning that will apply for the entirety of this story: trigger warning, implied rape, though not graphically described. I would describe it more in the Kilgrave sense than in the literal sense. Kilgrave being a reference to the television series Jessica Jones. If you haven't seen it you are seriously missing out. It is for this reason I've given this story a mature rating, not because it does or will contain smut, because it won't.

The outline of this story is complete and I will make an effort to post the chapters as often as possible. This is not the first fan fiction I've written, though it is the first I've posted, all comments, good and bad, are welcome as long as they're civil. Enjoy and leave an opinion if you feel inclined.

I should also mention that regardless of the main pairing I will never write a story in which Harry and Ginny end up together. Books and movies, she's just boring for me, I don't like her. I will make an effort to be fair to her, but it's unlikely she'll make much of an appearance.

Obligatory, I own no recognizable places or characters, they are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Pottermore, and I do not profit from this or any other story I may post in the future. I do, however own the plot of this story and this account is the only place it has been posted so if you see it somewhere else, it's stolen.

I have dates and timelines mapped out so if you have any questions about that let me know and I'll do my best to answer them.

Gone

Chapter 1

The Break in the Bonds

"She wouldn't give up on me, Ginny!" Harry's anger was bubbling over and his patience had reached the end of its strained tether.

Ginny's face contorted into a strange mixture of rage and sadness. Her rapidly changing color made her uncannily resemble her hot-headed brother. "She's dead Harry." She nearly whispered. "you know it. If she weren't she would be here with us. With you." Her tone held an unsettling icy calm to it, the heaviness of finality and the blunt edge of truth.

Harry would've preferred if she had punched him, indeed it felt as though she had. He had to stop himself from physically clutching his chest, the pain was so real and overwhelming. Three years. Three years had passed by in a blur of despair, not once had those words been vocalized. Everyone thought it, but never voiced it, or at least, never to Ron or Harry. He could see the thoughts everyone kept hidden, knew what they thought, but hearing the words was another beast entirely. "Get. Out." He hissed back at her.

"Oh honestly, Harry!" Ginny threw up her hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. "Did you never think of that outcome? Did you think she'd just gone on holiday?"

Harry felt the anger building back up, swallowing up the sadness and the grief. "I said, GET OUT!" He roared.

Ginny was unaffected, she merely rolled her eyes before storming toward the fireplace, she threw in a pinch of floo powder before turning back, "this obsession will be the end of us Harry, I can only take so much."

"We're already done!" he screamed into the emerald flames as she faded from sight. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted her to have heard him. As soon as she was gone he threw the nearest mug into the wall, satisfied when it shattered and rained ceramic onto the floor.

As if waiting for the cue, the portrait in the hallway began to wail, "blood traitors and filth! Defiling the house of my ancestors!" she screamed ceaselessly.

"Shut up!" Harry yelled while closing her drapes with a flick of his wand. "As soon as Hermione comes back she will find a way to end you!" he told the ragged curtains. Then he stomped to the floo himself, falling into the grate at the Hogs Head a moment later.

The dirty bar was nearly empty save a few shifty looking patrons huddled in a corner table, likely discussing dodgy business ventures. Harry went right to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey, downing it in one gulp.

Aberforth was absently wiping the bar with a rag that was likely doing no favors for the questionable cleanliness of the place. "long day Potter?" He quietly grunted in Harry's direction, not bothering to meet his gaze. Harry nodded and tapped the bar. Another firewhiskey slid across the bar toward him, this one he sipped. "Still no leads then?" Aberforth asked, as if he were merely discussing the weather. Harry scowled.

"She's not dead." He growled at the barman.

"I would think not." Aberforth didn't rise to Harry's prickly mood, just conversationally resumed the topic as though Harry had shown a desire to discuss it. He hadn't. Wanted to discuss it, that was, but hearing someone finally agree with him, believe him, nearly made his eyes water. He met Aberforth's gaze, hoping he would continue his thought. Aberforth cleared his throat and dropped the rag on the bar top before he went on, finally bothering to look at Harry before he spoke, "that girl is too smart and too stubborn to be dead. No, wherever she is, I'm sure she's alive." He picked up the rag again and resumed his ineffective cleaning.

Harry sighed but didn't respond. Aberforth rarely required a response anyway, he wasn't much for conversation. Harry suspected that in some way Aberforth must like him. Though he was surly at best he certainly spoke to Harry more often than the rest of his regulars. It was one of the things that made Harry miss Hermione so desperately, she would've had a better read on the last Dumbledore. If she were here she could've told him if he was considered a friend or if he was merely tolerated.

Harry spent the next half hour silently sipping his drink and considering where to look next in search of Hermione. She had disappeared the very day after he and Voldemort had met for the last time. They had gone to sleep in the castle and when they awoke, she hadn't joined them. The search at first had been frantic, the castles enchantments had still been gravely compromised, anything could have happened. Her face was pinned to every storefront, speculation in every paper. Harry spent days that slipped into weeks into years hating himself for feeling secure, for feeling safe. Childish. Foolish.

After months of tireless searching by the remaining Order members, by the Weasley's, and by the new ministry, hope drifted away like smoke on a breeze and less and less support came in. Harry and Ron were mostly alone in their continued efforts, and Harry was starting to feel like he was losing Ron too. He had noticed the gradual drop off with Ron, even though neither had voiced it. Ron had contributed less and less to Harry's feverish rants on every flimsy lead, searched less and less for information, spent less and less time with Harry himself.

Harry's troubled thoughts were interrupted by a heavy body dropping onto the stool next to him. A friendly arm was thrown across his shoulders before George spoke, "you and Ginny had another row then?" Harry nodded but didn't give any details. "She's been coming 'round the shop a lot."

"Yeah, well, I don't think it's working out, tell you the truth." Harry sighed, "I love her, I do, but what I'm doing is important."

George gave a thoughtful nod. "If-" he seemed to choke on the words for a moment then pulled a determined look before he continued, "if we didn't have Fred, you know," Harry did know. They had Fred's body, Hermione had disappeared, that was the difference. "Well," George cleared his throat, "I would never have stopped, like you, I wouldn't give up on him, not ever. I don't imagine Ginny can be angry at you for that, and if she is, well, I suppose she's still got some growing up to do."

"Thanks George." Harry told him honestly.

"Yeah? Thank me by buying me a drink." George shot back. Harry laughed and signaled Aberforth to bring them another round. "Ron's got a date tomorrow, did you know?"

Harry couldn't believe what he'd heard, Ron didn't date, Ron waited for Hermione, and that was that. "What about Hermione?" Harry asked stupidly. He didn't miss the pained expression that passed over George's face and it sent a burning pain through his chest.

"Katie Bell is trying out for the Harpies, Ron's been going to some of Ginny's practices, one thing led to another, the way they do. Angelina told me. I don't think it's the first one to be honest with you. I think Angelina avoided saying anything for a while." George said with a false tone of lightness. His intense glances in Harry's direction gave away his concern.

Harry downed the rest of his drink, "Good for him then, Katie's a nice girl." He could hear the forced nonchalance in his own words but he hoped George would ignore it.

He didn't get the opportunity to find out because a voice yelled in their direction, "Hey! What did you do to Ginny this time Harry?!" Ron bellowed from the front door he'd just stormed through. Harry sighed and ran his hand over his face.

"Take it outside Weasley, I'm warning you." Aberforth growled from behind the bar. Harry could see the wand twitch in his hand but he knew the only way Ron would go outside is if Harry did, so he threw some money on the bar and started toward Ron.

George shot the pair of them a smirk, "play nice ladies." He gave an exaggerated wave and received a dirty look from Ron.

Harry gestured Ron out of the bar and followed on his heels. He was trying very hard not to be angry with Ron, it had been three years after all, but he was finding it unexpectedly difficult. It was like an uncomfortable weight on his chest, as if he were bearing witness to Ron's abandonment of Hermione. Almost as though Ron was cheating on her in some way, he knew that wasn't fair, but he couldn't shake the thought. He needed someone to help, he needed someone beside him searching for her, believing like he believed. Just like the horcruxes, Ron was walking away.

"Ginny's at the Burrow, stomping around about how you dumped her Harry, it better not be true! You're my best mate, but she's my sister, don't forget that!" Ron was ranting away in a secluded alley beside the Hogs Head and Harry was only half listening.

"Ron," Harry sighed heavily, "you're dating Katie? Why? What about Hermione?" Harry didn't even bother to respond to the questions about Ginny. All he could really feel was relief about that right now, truthfully, it was a long time coming.

Ron paled, "how-how did you know about that?" He sputtered uselessly.

Harry felt the overwhelming urge to hit him, "does it matter?" He forced through gritted teeth.

It was Ron's turn to give a heavy sigh. "Harry, look, she wouldn't just abandon us, you know?" Harry hated the pleading in his voice, it only made him angrier at him. "If she isn't, you know, well then she doesn't want to be found does she? She's smarter than us, if she doesn't want to be found, we're not going to find her."

This was another theory Harry hated listening to, Ron wouldn't admit he thought she was dead so he'd rather think Hermione had just skipped off into the sunset. That she'd found a new life, one she preferred. He had the vicious thought that Hermione deserved someone better than Ron, who wouldn't think that of her. He knew better. Hermione didn't abandon him when Ron had, she didn't leave when they were starving and living in a tent, she didn't leave when she was tortured, when she'd lost her wand, and she didn't leave this time either. "Okay Ron." Harry started in a deadly calm voice. "I'm sure she's just decided she 'doesn't want to be found.' Have a nice date with Katie, yeah?" With that he turned and disapparated. In truth, he didn't go far, just into George's Hogsmeade shop. Both Weasley locations were the only shops still keeping the posters of Hermione in their windows, her photo smiled serenely at him from the posters. His heart gave a painful jerk that he ignored and headed straight for the floo in the back.

Once he returned to Grimmauld place he summoned the stack of parchment he kept on every effort he'd made toward finding Hermione. He would go over everything again. It wasn't the first night he'd spent pouring over the same information.

First they had searched her home in Hampstead. That had been a dead end. The place was completely empty and untouched. Through a few well-placed confundus charms they'd learned the home was actually owned by Hermione Granger and not by her parents. Additionally, a building they found to be a closed dental practice was owned by Hermione Granger. When they'd inquired further they'd come up empty. Harry had to admit, her parents were completely buried, they couldn't find a trace of them until they went to Australia themselves, which was the next place they went. With no evidence of a struggle they assumed she'd gone looking for her parents.

However, Monica and Wendall Wilkins ran a moderately successful dental practice with no children to speak of and no knowledge of a girl named Hermione. Still, Harry and Ron had stayed there for months, staking her parents out with the invisibility cloak to see if she'd turn up. Ron had even attempted to pose as a patient in order to get close to them. That had backfired spectacularly when Ron ran out of the practice while screaming about how mental muggles were.

Within the stack of parchment were many correspondences with Professor McGonagall. Harry had written her to ask where Hermione had gone to primary school, where she'd possibly have extended family, every piece of information he could possibly compile about Hermione Granger. He kept every mundane fact he remembered, and everything he had learned since her disappearance, written down as best as he could. He even had her little beaded back tucked in the box, though it gave him nothing of use.

There were photos too. If he was being truthful, that's what he was really doing tonight. Looking at her smiling and waving out of the photographs he had collected. Most included him or Ron, many had all three of them. Dennis Creavy had, very generously, gone through rolls and rolls of Colin's film to find many of these for Harry. Some of them were cut out of old issues of the Prophet, even a few from Skeeter articles.

He ran his fingers over the well-worn photo of the three of them taken after Voldemort fell. It was published the very next morning, in fact. They were hugging each other in a grip so tight he would be surprised if they'd been breathing at all. Hermione had tears pouring down her cheeks but she was smiling. He had also kept every story about her disappearance, carefully clipped with every photo, every issue, every rumor, every theory, and every lead.

Suddenly Harry broke out of his memory. "Kreacher!" He nearly screamed. The elf popped into being next to him and Harry jumped out of his chair in excitement. "Kreacher! I need you to do something for me, if, er," Hermione would want him to be kind. He took a deep breath, "if you wouldn't mind. Er. Please." He said awkwardly.

Kreacher looked positively thrilled. "Kreacher would be happy to help Master Harry." He clapped his hands together delightedly.

"I need papers Kreacher, newspapers, from everywhere. To help me find Hermione." He told the elf.

"Master is already checking all the newspapers, Kreacher is watching master." The elf seemed confused by his redundant request.

"No. I mean, Dumbledore, he said he read muggle newspapers, to stay informed or something," He told the elf distractedly. The memory of Dumbledore explaining the ministry ignoring muggle issues as inconsequential or unrelated to the wizarding world was screaming through his head like a siren, berating him for the oversight.

Harry drew a deep breath, "sorry Kreacher, what I mean to say is I would like muggle newspapers. Someone, somewhere, just has to have captured a picture of Hermione, even if she's just in the background. So what I need you to do is get as many muggle newspapers as you can, from everywhere you can." Kreacher was nodding his head in understanding now. "You can't be seen by muggles through Kreacher, do you understand? I'll get in trouble if you're spotted. Also, any time you see the name 'Hermione' anywhere, bring me that as well. Even if she's using another last name I don't think she'd change her first, and it's fairly unique, especially with muggles." Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a pop.

Even if Ron was right and she was hiding away from them, the muggle world would be the only place she truly could. Even in the muggle world, she wasn't immune to photographs and that would mean some had to have been taken. Harry would find them. Even if it meant he searched every muggle and wizarding publication the combined efforts of him and Kreacher could obtain. Somewhere, she was out there, and he wasn't giving up or moving on, Ron could do what he wanted but Harry was just getting started.

With new hope ignited Harry made his way slowly up the stairs toward his bedroom. He mused on the idea that Kreacher was now his only real ally remaining in his search for Hermione. The thought was disheartening. It was true that Luna believed she was alive, though she offered no information. Unfortunately Luna was also off scouring some remote part of the world looking for some creature she had probably invented.

Chrookshanks was already taking up what he had decided was his side of the bed, Molly had been only too happy to let Harry take the surly thing. He seemed to tolerate this living arrangement but was never particularly nice to anyone without Hermione around. One more ally. Harry's last thought before he drifted off to sleep was what Hermione would make of his misfit band of heroes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Portraits and Papers

Kreacher returned the next day, his arms weighed down with heaps of newspapers, all in varying states of decay. Some were clearly very new while others must have been years old. Harry could only assume Kreacher had worked through the night to pilfer this staggering number of newspapers. For the first time Harry was overcome with the desire to hug Kreacher. His only ally was a very devoted one, and he supposed that was enough.

Immediately Harry spread the papers over the table and began meticulously reading through every article. Every dull wedding announcement, every contrite obituary, every story, both front page and last. He told himself over and over that Hermione would not have ignored a single word were their roles reversed and he could not afford to give her any less.

As the day wore on he was buried under more and more discarded newspapers with no relevant information. Cast aside among the papers were plates from meals Kreacher had brought, only for Harry to absently nibble at the food and toss them aside.

Finally he looked up at the little elf. He tiredly rubbed his face, "can you apparate out of the country, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher can apparate anywhere his master orders him to." The elf was giving him a confused look.

Harry pulled a scrap of parchment to him and began listing every neighboring country he could think of. He passed the list to Kreacher with a tentative smile, "muggle and wizarding newspapers, if there's somewhere I haven't thought of, go ahead and go. Oh and Kreacher? Thank you, it means a lot to have your help."

Kreacher beamed brightly, "Kreacher wants Master Harry's Hermione to return so Master can be happy." Then the elf disappeared and Harry was alone once more.

Harry knew he shouldn't hole up in Grimmauld Place lest he end up spending his days like his late godfather, stir crazy and lonely. He just couldn't shake the feeling he had to be on to something. In three years she had to have been photographed at least once, and hopefully made some dull story in a muggle newspaper, assuming she was in the muggle world. Surely, wherever Hermione was, she was successful in whatever she did. Unless, of course, she was being held captive. Harry chose not to dwell on those thoughts though, they had cropped up in his mind too often in the years since she'd been gone and they had a way of squashing his hope.

The last three years had enacted a change in Harry that was almost frightening. The mountain of research he had devoted to his search was unparalleled. Never had he read so much or taken so many notes. It reminded him of the search for Flamel and the stone so many years ago. He was certain if he had looked into the Mirror of Erised in the last three years he would've only seen himself finding Hermione. He wished he could pluck her from the mirror the way he had the stone. He often thought he would gladly face Riddle again if it meant Hermione could be there too. Happily go back to living in a cold musty tent with wild mushrooms for dinner, as long as she wasn't unaccounted for

Sometimes, Harry would slip into a downward spiral of self hatred. He thought if he had her that she would've solved it already. She would've already found him, or Ron. Hell, she would've probably thought of muggle newspapers a solid year before Harry himself did. She would've buried herself so far into research she would've come out with enough knowledge to walk them straight where they needed to be.

It was this constant cycle of research, hope, frantic searching, and eventual disappointment that had killed his relationship with Ginny. In the beginning she had been as devoted as him or Ron, supporting their every harebrained idea or barely existent trail. She had patiently woken him from his ever-present nightmares of losing Hermione, of being unable to save her. Ginny had even tolerated his neglect of not only her, but himself. She brought him home-cooked meals from Molly when he forgot to feed himself for days, led him to the shower when he hadn't bothered, and forced him away from his research when he'd begun to lose touch.

Then Ginny had moved on, just like the rest of the world, just like normal, well-adjusted people did. She signed her Harpies contract and spent time with her loved ones, while Harry slowly folded in on himself. In the few interviews Ginny gave to the press she began to hint at marriage, a possible family with the great Harry Potter. Harry himself couldn't possibly imagine doing either of those things without Hermione in his life. In truth, Hermione and Ron had been the first real family he'd ever known, dysfunctional and strange as it was, he needed them.

When Voldemort had fallen and every tie to his parents had gone along with him, Harry had been deliriously happy he at least had Hermione and Ron. While the rest of his life was so tumultuous, they were his tether. Then the tether had snapped. The resulting crack had blown his eardrums, faded the world into background noise.

Harry had lived the last three years as though he were underwater, watching everyone move above him through a dull, distorted haze, unable to participate or properly understand events. The only ones who seemed to have been plunged under with him were George and Ron, and the only one who shared his reason for it was Ron. A morbid camaraderie had formed around this shared loss. It was made more solid when Ron began working on the shops with George, it offered more time for the three of them to be together. These gatherings were often held in silence. Sympathy and condolences were not required or helpful, so they drank quietly when there were no leads to discuss, or new products to perfect. Sometimes they just told stories, carefully avoiding anything too close to the ends, the loss.

Harry knew why Ginny had been visiting the shop more often, as George had confirmed. He knew that she was close to Lee Jordan, probably considering being more than close to him. He often interviewed her on his wizarding wireless network and provided commentary at many of her games. If he was honest, he didn't really blame her, Harry was scattered at best, and completely absent at worst. Perhaps he was being too hard on Ron, and Ginny. Harry had so little family, Ron and Ginny couldn't say they same, they were raised properly. The Weasley's were raised with a mother who had suffered loss and a father who showed them love, they knew how to handle these things. They were...adjusted, as it were.

Ron would eventually take his healthy upbringing and healthy family life and want to move on from newspaper clippings and three-year-old photos of a childhood sweetheart who'd disappeared and establish a real life. Ron would want a job and a home and a few kids. Harry had a very hard time asking Ron to deny himself that when Harry had spent the last three years using Ginny to ground him to the real world while Ron had only lost love and memories to cling to. He had begrudged Ron the same familiarity he himself had indulged in. Harry had lost himself in Ginny when grief and disparaging thoughts had threatened to overwhelm him. Yet he had expected Ron to hold on to isolation and desperate longing.

Harry knew where it came from. The sadness he'd watched in Hermione when Ron had clung to Lavender. The heartbreak he'd witnessed when Ron had dismissed Hermione's femininity and chosen the prettiest, but least intelligent, girl he could find. Ron had all but screamed that smart did not equal pretty, he screamed how unimportant a brain could be, almost intentionally it seemed. Brains were not on the list of things Ron was searching for, an owl would've been just as effective. For Hermione that had meant she did not qualify for the position Ron was attempting to fill, mostly with vapid, superficial, pretty girls. Now, even though Hermione wasn't here to to be heartbroken by Ron's behavior, Harry still remembered the pain it had caused in the past.

Katie was not those things. Katie was a moderately intelligent, pretty, and nice girl. Ron wasn't being shallow or proving a point, he was dating a girl who shared his interests, and enjoyed his company. Harry? Harry was clinging to a family that may never exist again and feeling betrayed when other people, specifically Ron, didn't cling along with him.

Harry wanted to break down at the thought. He'd been awful to Ron, he'd spent three years all but ignoring the handful of people who loved him, and he'd lost Ginny. That last one was certain, there was no mending that fence. Ginny had moved on months before he'd screamed into the floo, he knew that. But Ron?

So had Ron. So had all the Weasleys. So had the Prophet, so had the ministry, and everyone except Harry. Everyone else was moving on and they all continued to shelter Harry from it. Ron sheltered him from his new relationship, the Weasleys sheltered Harry from their belief that Hermione was long-dead, even Dumbledore had sheltered him, in his death-adjacent state, from the real horrors of his life, "I don't need protecting! I can protect myself!" Harry screamed to the empty room. He didn't expect an answer and didn't receive one.

When the sun was finally setting Harry had fallen asleep at the table. The kitchen was in disarray; newspapers, notebooks, and photos covered every surface. Harry was snoring softly and drooling onto an aging, yellowed muggle newspaper.

He was woken abruptly by a figure climbing awkwardly out of his fireplace. He had his wand out and raised at Ron's face before he realized who it was and cautiously lowered his wand. He ran a hand through his messy hair, "what do you want Ron?" He asked tiredly.

"What do I want?" Ron was very obviously drunk and Harry sighed. "I want you to let me move on, you don't get to make me feel guilty Harry, I'm tired of having to hide Katie, we've been together eight months did you know? She's not a dirty little secret, Hermione left, not me, you understand?" He stumbled a bit and steadied himself on the table, when he noticed the papers he shook his head sadly. "It's time to give it up Harry."

"It's not time to give it up until I find her Ron, I'm sorry alright? You're right. Just go home, go to bed." Ron looked for a moment like he wanted to continue to argue the matter but seemed to think better of it and turned back to the fireplace.

Before he stepped through he turned back once more, "I hope you do find her Harry, but I'm done waiting." Then he was gone and Harry felt the weight of his loneliness and grief return to his chest.

He needed to talk to Dumbledore. The clock in the kitchen said it was only a little after eight, he hoped McGonagall wouldn't be too irritated to oblige and stepped into the flames.

"Can I help you Mr. Potter?" She looked up from her desk the moment he entered and set her glasses down to give him a stern look.

"I just want to talk to him." He asked awkwardly.

"By all means Mr. Potter. He's only pretending to be asleep anyway and perhaps it would do him good to annoy someone other than myself." She stood to leave before she finished, "I trust you can see yourself out when you've finished?" He nodded and she disappeared from sight.

He approached the portrait cautiously and the adjacent portrait of Snape rolled his eyes dramatically. "Professor?" He asked politely.

The Dumbledore in the painting cleared his throat and sat up in his chair, "I knew it would never be me to defeat Tom, even before Sybil gave the prophecy that doomed your parents, did you know that Harry?"

"Er, well, no but I didn't come to talk about that." Harry started but Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"I didn't know at the time who it would be, but I knew it would not be me. When I tasked you with finding and destroying the horcruxes, I knew then. I wanted Severus to inherit my wand, I knew in the end it would be you, and it would be Severus. The two of you share a great many things in common." Harry glanced at Professor Snape, who appeared to be doing his level best to pretend he was temporarily deaf and couldn't see the other occupants of the room. Harry suspected if he'd had another portrait to escape to he would've done it already. "You see, Harry, the similarities between yourself and Tom, existed between Severus and Tom as well. However, it was a difference from him that you and Severus shared that I knew would be Tom's undoing, do you know what that difference was Harry?" Dumbledore asked, as though they were studying and not discussing private matters that made him terribly uncomfortable.

"Love." Harry replied quietly, hoping the blush he could feel in his cheeks wasn't terribly obvious.

"Exactly. You and Severus had a capacity for love I didn't share. There were a great many people and things I loved, but not the way Severus loved Lily, not the way you love Miss Granger. That, I knew, would keep you safe, would keep you focused, would guarantee your success. I admit I did hope that you would not share the same fate as Severus, losing that love, and clinging desperately to the loss."

"Enough, Albus." Professor Snape cut in irritably.

"Right, Professor, but I'm not in love with Hermione, not like that. I actually came to ask about how you managed to find wizarding things in muggle papers, how you knew where to look, or what you were looking for." Harry suddenly felt as though he'd wasted a trip, Dumbledore apparently wanted to speak in riddles instead of giving him information.

"Of course you're not, Harry, of course. As to your question, I'm afraid I can't offer you anything concrete. It can be tedious work, you must be perceptive and look for those things which may be out of the ordinary. I have no doubt you will find what you seek. Now, despite how much I have enjoyed this visit, it is getting late and an old man does need his rest, even if he only a mere painting." This was an obvious end to the discussion and Harry only felt more confused than when he'd arrived. With a heavy sigh he returned to the fireplace.

From the moment he came out in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Kreacher was shrieking at him, waving a very old looking newpaper around and ranting that he had found her. Harry nearly knocked the little elf over in an attempt to get at the paper.

When he finally saw it his heart nearly pounded out of his rib cage. There she was, blonde, very blonde, but that bushy mass couldn't possibly belong to anyone else. She was only in the background, of a story about some library that hosted regular reading events for children and offered a coffee shop inside for adults. She was barely visible and the paper was yellow and wrinkled with age. When he checked the date he found it had been published two years ago and the library was located in Dublin. "Kreacher, can you take me there?" He realized he was nearly begging the elf but he'd stopped caring the moment that photo had appeared. He could kiss Kreacher, the elf was a genius.

"Kreacher can take you there Master Harry, now?" Kreacher held out his tiny wrinkled hand and Harry was tempted to grab it and leave immediately but he held himself back.

"Not yet, let me pack, I need you to go to George Weasley, tell him to look after Crooks?" Kreacher nodded and Harry ran back up the stairs.

He haphazardly shoved his clothes and some toiletries into his trunk, hoping George wouldn't keep Kreacher long. If there was even a chance the girl in the photo was Hermione, he needed to get to Dublin.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Silence, Sounds, and Separation

As it happened, Harry wished he had thought this trip through a bit more. He was currently staying in a rather disgusting muggle motel, had yet to find where the wizarding world could be reached, and was getting low on muggle money to continue this stay. So far he had received two owls, one from George complaining about his abrupt disappearance and Chrookshanks' incorrigible behavior in his absence. George had also inquired about where he'd gone off to, claiming he deserved to know since he was currently being subjected to 'that horrible cat.' Ron had also written, to apologize for his drunken state at their last meeting, but he had also pointed out that he was right and he wasn't going to apologize for what he said. Harry had not responded to either of these owls. In fact, his last month had been spent standing outside of the muggle library he'd seen in the paper under his invisibility cloak watching everyone who filtered in or out of the entrance. So far, he had seen exactly nothing of note.

There were some regulars who came to the library everyday, but Hermione was not one of them. Harry had managed to memorize a fair number of them, as well as the times they arrived. Unfortunately, none of this got him closer to finding Hermione. He was becoming more and more impatient with every uneventful day. It was on day 32 that he decided he had had enough of the cloak, and instead decided to sit in the coffee shop. He still stayed all day, much to the annoyance of the barista, who shot him disapproving looks when he spent the day drinking water and only purchasing a muffin. It was nearly 4:00 in the afternoon before it happened, she walked in. She scanned the coffee shop and her eyes passed over him without so much as a flicker. She looked so different, her hair was blonde and braided neatly over her shoulder, and she wore a lovely purple sundress, a sleeved thing that covered her arms but not her legs. This gave him a clear view of her shins, which where covered in an array of tiny scars he wouldn't have noticed if he didn't know they'd be there. He knew what caused them as well, he and Ron shared them, they were burns, from Bellatrix's vault. She had more curves than he remembered, she was still on the thin side but most definitely a woman, not the girl he remembered. It really was no wonder she hadn't been found, she didn't look like herself, not really. The blonde hair didn't suit her and looked horribly out of place.

Harry was frozen as he watched her enter the small coffee shop, arms filled with books and notepads, a pen tucked behind her ear. She picked a small booth and Harry watched closely as the barista approached her, they seemed to know one another and Hermione ordered a drink of some sort and something the barista said made her laugh. Harry could've sworn the air left his lungs. He was not close enough to hear the conversation, but her laugh rang clear and he nearly cried with elation at the beauty of it. It was a sound he hadn't realized he'd needed, but now it felt like oxygen, like he would die without it. How had he forgotten her laugh? Her voice?

As soon as the barista had left Hermione began to spread books over the table, opening notebooks and beginning to work in earnest. He held back for only seconds before shouting her name. She lifted her head as he approached, her expression confused. Instead of the recognition and happiness he desperately craved. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" She asked. If she was lying, she was doing a remarkable job of it. Her face gave nothing away and Harry's chest ached.

"Yes, I'm Harry, we went to school together, you're Hermione Granger, don't you remember?" His voice sounded desperate, even to himself but he couldn't help the slight pleading in his tone. This was not the reunion he'd spent three years fantasizing about, this was anticlimactic at best and heartbreaking at worst.

"It's Slate now, actually." She responded, breaking his reverie.

"Um, I'm sorry, what now?" He asked quietly.

"My last name, it's Slate actually." She held up her left hand and Harry saw it, a small but tasteful silver band, with three diamonds in the center, glittering on her finger. Harry began to wonder if he would asphyxiate from the sheer number of times he'd had the air forcibly removed from his lungs. If he wasn't staring right at her he wouldn't believe it was her at all. She was married. Barely 20 years old and Hermione Granger was married. "But my maiden name was Granger, and to be perfectly honest with you, I wasn't terribly popular in school, so I didn't have a lot of friends, but I apologize for not remembering you." She continued as though she hadn't just turned Harry's life upside down. Not terribly popular? She had been awarded an Order of Merlin, first class, in absentia, he'd been saved by her more times than he could count, and he'd thrown three years of his life away in search of her, she was on a Chocolate Frog card! It didn't get more popular than that. He felt horribly blind-sided.

"I went to a boarding school in Scotland, you remember it, don't you?" He asked desperately.

"Of course!" The look on her face showed growing concern, she seemed to be unsure of his mental state and he briefly wondered if she was agreeing with him for the sake of ending the discussion. "The Merlin Academy, you attended as well?"

"Wait, like a muggle school?" Harry asked. This was the most horribly disconcerting conversation he'd ever engaged in, The Merlin Academy? What in the world was that? How had she forgotten her best friends, Hogwarts, the war. It felt like he'd been hurled into a chess game where he'd been shorted half his pieces.

"I'm sorry, a what now? It was just a regular boarding school I suppose." Her eyes darted around the cafe as though looking for a reason to leave his presence and panic coursed through Harry, he needed to wrangle his emotions. Snape's voice blazed through his mind 'control your emotions!' He took a calming breath and schooled his features. She clearly did not remember him, he needed to learn what she did remember, he needed her to allow him into her life, which meant he needed to at least seem like a sane person, kidnapping her wasn't an option.

He tried to tie his emotions up in a neat little box, envisioned it in his mind. The desire to jump on her and apperate home, the desire to tell her how long he'd thought of nothing but her, to tell her she'd been the singular focus of his waking mind for three years and he'd missed her terribly. Thankfully, what came out of his mouth was much more controlled, "yes, The Merlin Academy, I'm sorry, I just haven't seen anyone around here, from school I mean, it's lovely to see you Hermione. What do you do?"

There it was again, that laugh, that heart-stopping, arresting sound, that sound that broke his heart and filled it all at once. "To be perfectly honest, very little, especially compared to what I'd like to be doing." She began, as though she hadn't just stolen the very oxygen he so desperately needed, for the thousandth time since she'd walked in.

"I apologize, will you be here tomorrow, I'd love to meet. Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement I cannot change." He knew it was a was a weak excuse but he couldn't process all of these developments with a straight face. "Same time, same place? I"ll buy you a drink. Promise."

She nodded and Harry made a hasty exit. He needed a plan, at least an idea of one, because his current plan was to kidnap her, and something told him that in this case, it wasn't viable.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Second Meeting

Harry did not have a restful night. In fact, he spent the majority of the evening adding more notes to his collection. Unfortunately, these notes consisted of half-formed ideas and thoughts. This was going to be more difficult than he expected. She was married, she had no idea who he was, she did not remember Hogwarts, or their history, or their friends. Somehow he had to find those memories and return them.

What of this mysterious husband? Was he a wizard? Did he know who she was? Had he done this to her? Or was he entirely separate from the whole affair? A coincidence she'd happened upon since she'd clearly become a muggle? When Harry looked over his notes again he found more questions than answers. It was worrying. For the first time in three years he'd been close enough to touch her, heard her voice, saw her right in front of him. Yet, he'd never felt further from her. It simply wasn't her. This strange muggle version of her walking around wearing his best friend's skin was so far removed from the Hermione he'd been searching for he didn't know where to go from here. Was he supposed to make friends with this new Hermione?

He had started to write about 15 separate letters, to Ron, to George, and even one to Kingsley. All of them were now crumpled in the dented wastebasket in the corner. What exactly was he supposed to say? 'Hello, it's Harry, I've found her, but it's not her?'

So by the afternoon of the following day Harry had resolved to find out as much as possible about her life before he made any sort of decision. He would just learn, pretend he'd just met her and learn. This is what he repeated to himself over and over as he headed for the library.

He found her again in the same booth, with books and notebooks spread around her once more. Only his resolve was broken entirely when he saw she wasn't alone. Tucked inside the booth was a small child, and not just any small child, a little girl. A girl who so resembled Hermione herself it made his head swim. Her curly dark hair bounced around her chubby cheeks and she had buck teeth that brought Harry forcibly back to Hermione in first year. If he didn't know better he would think the child had to be her daughter, but Hermione was much too young and responsible to have a toddler. It had to be a sister or a cousin, he decided.

"Hello Harry!" She said brightly has he approached her booth.

"Hello Hermione, and who's this?" His voice shook a bit more than he would've liked as he asked but he couldn't help but dread the answer.

"Sorry, I couldn't get a babysitter, this is my daughter, Lily. Lily say hello to Harry." Harry almost felt a manic laughter try to escape. This had to be some sort of joke. Was George hiding around the corner waiting to see the look on his face when this polyjuiced version of Hermione announced that she'd named her daughter after his mother? Oh and she had a daughter! He'd clearly stepped into an alternate reality because this was completely absurd.

He took a moment to take a deep breath and gather himself, before he tried and failed miserably to casually ask why she'd chosen that name for her daughter. To his surprise, she sighed heavily and shook her head before she answered, "Conner, my husband, hates this story." She started. "You see sometimes I have these dreams, but they're so vivid I wonder if they're memories. There are things about my life I'm certain I'm forgetting. Anyway, one of these dreams there's someone telling me about a woman named Lily. I just remember the words, 'it was always her, he loved her all of his life, just Lily.' It always seemed important, and the name was lovely. So when I discovered I would be having a girl I wanted to call her Lily. Conner didn't seem to mind so, there you are." She gave Lily an affectionate pat at the end of her story.

Harry was beaming. It was the last conversation he'd had with Hermione before she'd disappeared, she remembered him. He had told her and Ron about Snape, how he'd sacrificed everything for Lily, for him. Most importantly, she remembered. The Hermione he'd searched for was in there somewhere, which meant he could get her back. The hope that had bubbled up nearly made him burst. After a moment he realized he was just staring and smiling at her so he cleared his throat and gestured to the books laid out on the table, "so what's all this anyway?" He asked.

"Oh well, I'm something of a freelance researcher, mostly for law firms and things. They hire me when they need help researching a case. When I got pregnant Conner didn't want me to work, I disagreed, this was a sort of compromise." She shrugged but Harry noticed a little bit of something else in her expression, something that made him think she wasn't completely thrilled with this compromise.

"I've got a godson, a little bit older than her." Harry started. "Maybe a play date some time?" He really wanted a reason to meet her husband, and to find out where she lived.

Hermione looked a bit unsure for a moment before she nodded, "I wouldn't mind that. Would you like that Lily?" She asked and Lily nodded but didn't seem terribly keen on entering the conversation. "I apologize for not remembering you from school, what about your life, what do you do?"

Harry wasn't sure how to answer this question, especially since the truthful answer would be 'I search tirelessly for you, and spend most of my time with an old house elf and your obnoxious cat.' What he said instead was, "I live in London, I've got a cat, my godson's parents are gone so he spends a lot of time at my place, bit boring really.'

"Gone? Gone where?" She asked politely.

Harry swallowed, it was still hard to talk about, still horribly painful, even after all the years he'd lived without them. "Oh, they're, they're dead." He told her softly.

Hermione apologized profusely and seemed somewhat embarrassed to have misunderstood his meaning. He quickly steered the conversation to safer waters.

The pair spent the rest of the afternoon chatting over coffee and Harry found himself relaxing a little, she was still herself, just a stranger version of her. He learned her husband went to London on business pretty regularly but Hermione herself didn't join him. He learned strange things often happened around Lily that Hermione couldn't explain, but Harry knew meant she was definitely a witch. He learned she was a smart girl but Hermione worried because she had a horrible temper and struggled to make friends. On closer inspection he saw that the girl had subtle differences from Hermione, her hair was darker than Hermione's, and her eyes were lighter. All of these things only made Harry more curious about the girl's father.

Hermione told him that Lily hadn't been planned either. She had dated her husband only four months when she'd gotten pregnant at only eighteen. This was important information to Harry, based on Lily's age that meant Hermione had gotten pregnant barely four months after she'd disappeared, which made her husband the most likely cause of her altered memories. She hadn't been thrilled to become a mother so young, but her husband had, this made Harry even more suspicious. So when she finally told him she had to leave, Harry knew he would be following her.

Under the cloak he watched her pack her things into her small car and strap Lily into the back seat. He wished he'd thought to bring a broom, when she drove away he had to apparate every few yards to keep her in his line of sight. After a few tries at this his stomach was turning over. This went on for nearly twenty minutes, when finally, to his relief, she pulled into a small cottage with an equally small fenced yard. He waited for her to go inside before he cautiously approached the window.

There he was, this Conner Slate, he had dark hair and a rather impressive frame, much larger than Harry himself. He was neatly groomed with blue eyes and an engaging smile, it was not hard to see why Hermione had been attracted to him. He seemed to take very little interest in his daughter though, which Harry found odd. He patted her head and kissed Hermione before appearing to start making food.

Harry stayed until late in the evening watching the little family. It was mundane, boring even, nothing to suggest she had been snatched from her real life and thrown into this facsimile of a perfect family.

By the time he watched Hermione and Conner head up to bed for the evening Harry had sat down on a patch of grass to mull over the strange events of the day. He was so lost in thought he didn't hear someone approach until he felt a whisper in his ear, "I know you're there, Harry Potter, hidden under that cloak, it's time for you to go home. If I even catch a hint you've returned, if you tell anyone where she is, I'll kill her. Run along now."

Harry was sure his stomach dropped into his feet. Before he could even reach his wand Conner was headed back into the house, he sent a sinister smile in Harry's direction before shutting the door with a soft click.

* * *

Authors Note: So, you're welcome to try and guess who Conner actually is and how he knew Harry was there, I do intend to explain all of it. I appreciate the reviews very much. Thank you guys. I know the chapters are short but it gives me the ability to finish them faster and move the story at a pace I like.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Worst Laid Plans

Harry had called Kreacher and was halfway to the ministry before he reconsidered his actions. He wanted to ignore what Conner had said, stomp into Kingsley's office and head back to the cottage with nothing less than an army. Three years ago Hermione probably would've agreed with him. She probably would've told him he couldn't back down in the face of threats and if she was to die she would be doing what was right. However, Harry had spent a few precious hours with Hermione as she was today, and Hermione today had Lily. No matter what sort of monster Conner was and what he had done to Hermione, Hermione's daughter didn't deserve to be harmed.

Harry was ashamed when he felt his eyes sting with frustration. Conner had known he was there. The cloak couldn't help him, even if he returned alone and didn't speak to her. He couldn't tell Ron, Ron had even less control than Harry himself and he wouldn't hesitate to go charging into the cottage without a second thought. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone or Hermione's life would be lost, according to Conner. Was it possible Conner could have people watching Harry, even now? According to Hermione he traveled to London at least once a month on business, usually for a few days at a time. That suggested he at least had colleagues near Harry, if not friends.

Obviously the easiest solution would be to watch her and wait for him to leave, then take her and her daughter away. Without the invisibility cloak as a way to spy, Harry was afraid to chance the idea of getting caught. If Conner could see through cloaks a disillusionment charm would surely be ineffective. Even if he were successful, what of Hermione Slate? She would think Harry himself the monster for stealing her and her daughter from their home.

Harry ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration. Then there was explaining to Kingsley that he'd illegally hopped out of the country with a house elf, not the best way to begin asking for a favor. Even 'The Chosen One' was supposed to follow the law.

Well, at any rate, Conner had gotten what he wanted. With his threat he'd succeeded in sending Harry straight back to London. Another thought suddenly occurred to Harry, a thought that made his blood run cold. What if Conner had convinced her to leave? What if his plan had been to scare Harry away long enough to move her and Lily away? Where would they go next? How many years before he would find her again? Would he find her at all? How many years before he killed her? Was the threat empty, or completely valid?

His heart pounded inside his chest, a horrible aching, sick, feeling, that flooded his body, a poison he didn't recognize until it burned through his veins. It was a pain he couldn't stifle or control. Pain beyond the lost love Dumbledore had predicted. Unprecedented, he had no tape to measure this pain by, other than losing her the first time. Why hadn't he grabbed her in the cafe? He berated himself for allowing her to slip through his fingers once again. For the first time in a very long time, helpless tears fell down his cheeks. He swiped angrily at them with his sleeve. He desperately wished he had someone he could talk to about it, but fear for Hermione's safety kept his lips sealed.

The ever-present ache of Sirius' absence rippled through him in his desperation. Sirius would know what to do. He wouldn't take this lying down, he would have had answers. The hard truth was that Sirius was gone, everyone Harry wanted was gone. Hermione was probably gone too.

It was this thought that broke the dam. Harry stepped through the threshold of Grimmauld Place and crumpled where he stood. Allowing the sobs and pain to have their way, if only for a while. His chest burned with the sheer unfairness of the situation. Hadn't he lost enough? Hadn't he given enough? Now he'd lost Hermione twice. Surely, he'd earned the chance to have just one loss back? He let the sobbing continue, helpless to end it in his growing despair.

"Master Harry?" Kreacher's voice was uncertain and concerned and Harry looked up at the small elf standing next to him. Embarrassment washed over him. It was hard enough to be a grown man sobbing in the foyer of a rotting old house, let alone having someone witness it, even an elf.

As ashamed as he was by his emotional outburst he couldn't help looking at Kreacher with some excitement, "Kreacher, can you become invisible?" He asked tentatively.

Kreacher wrung his ears with a sad expression on his face, "Master Harry, house elves is not being invisible, just good at hiding."

Harry deflated a little. Although, being good at hiding was something and if Conner could see through cloaks anyway perhaps being invisible wouldn't have been terribly useful. Perhaps his house elf's considerable skill could still be of use.

He was frustrated, and exhausted from his emotional outburst. Harry desperately wanted to go to bed, but he feared sleep would only turn his panic into nightmares. Instead, he commissioned Kreacher to deliver a message to George. It was simple and revealed nothing, Harry was quite proud of it, honestly.

 _George,_

 _Come to my place for a drink, bring Crooks back please. She's dearly missed and I worry when she's away, anything could happen._

 _Harry_

Harry could only hope George would read into the incorrect gender of the cat and see what he didn't say. It wouldn't do to have Kreacher intercepted.

The truth of it was Harry needed to tell someone. The weight of this secret was nearly suffocating.

After he'd sent Kreacher away he paced in front of the fireplace for a quarter hour nervously running his fingers through his hair. He supposed it was nearing midnight and perhaps that was why George was taking his time, but it didn't make waiting any easier.

When George finally stumbled out of the fireplace he looked slightly disheveled in lounge pants and a very battered shirt. He was looking irritable and holding an equally annoyed Crookshanks. "What's gotten into you Harry? It's the middle of the damn night and you send a house elf to fetch me? Angelina's ready to give you -" he didn't finish his tirade, and instead gave Harry a very concerned look. Crookshanks used his distraction to leap from his arms and streak off up the stairs. "What happened to you? You look awful. Have you been crying?"

Harry felt that familiar shame again and dearly wished he'd thought to spend some time in front of the mirror. Instead he responded brokenly, "I've found her George. You can't tell anyone." George was sweeping his eyes over the room as though she might pop out and announce her presence. "She's not here, I really need to tell someone but you have to keep it to yourself, if anyone finds out I told where she is she'll be killed. I need your word George." George seemed to be considering it for a moment then gave him a hesitate nod. Harry pulled the newspaper clipping from his pocket and spread it on the surface of the table, he started from the beginning. He told George about the library, Hermione's family, and the few memories that she still had.

When he finished the story and explained Conner's threat, George sighed loudly. "Well, she's alive, that's something. What's the plan then boss?" He asked lightly.

Harry was taken aback by the question, he hadn't actually gotten that far. He had planed to send Kreacher to spy on her but even that idea had him jumpy with nerves. Could he trust Kreacher with Hermione's life? That was exactly what was at stake here. Kreacher was a changed elf, of this Harry was certain, but just how changed? Changed enough to protect Hermione with his life? It would be a gamble, but he had to trust Kreacher. It was the only chance. Conner probably wouldn't expect a house elf, and Harry couldn't do it himself. "I was going to send Kreacher to spy on her, what do you think?" He asked George.

Again George sighed, "I don't know Harry, house elves are clever but we still haven't worked out how Conner knew you were there. He might find Kreacher. What about this little girl, are you sure it's Hermione's? I mean, what if he just made her think the kid was hers?"

Harry smiled, "oh, Lily is definitely Hermione's, George, wait 'til you see her. Her hair is just awful, she's got these horrible buck teeth, looks exactly like Hermione." He smiled fondly, "there's other things about her though, she's quiet, Hermione says she's got a temper too."

"I really should be mad at you, you know." George said matter-of-factly.

"What for? It's just a cat George, I've had you watch him before, I'm sorry for disappearing but, really, you know I had to." Harry really didn't think this was the time for a lecture about his trip.

"Oh not that. I meant about leading my sister on, and stealing my brother's girlfriend. Not very nice of you mate." George twirled his wand nonchalantly between his fingers as he spoke, "only reason I'm not mad is I honestly think you're too stupid to know it."

Harry scoffed, "you sound like Dumbledore and you're both wrong."

"Wouldn't be so bad to sound like Dumbledore, smart man. Can you imagine what the shop could be if I'd had his brains?" George had a wistful expression on his face, "shame he devoted all that talent to following the rules." He shook his head sadly. "Anyway Harry, you've been in love with her a long time. Her and Ron have been over a long time, you're allowed to admit it, at least to yourself."

Harry was quiet for a long moment, was George possibly right about him? Of course not. It was laughable. Hermione was his friend, besides that, she loved Ron. That's when he felt it. That sharp pain to his gut, the idea of her coming home, the real her, and being with Ron. Maybe George was right. Harry sighed heavily. "It's not relevant George." He told him bluntly. "I'm sending Kreacher, it's all we've got and I need to do something." George shrugged.

"Kreacher!" Harry called. The little elf popped into the kitchen and bowed in front of him, "Kreacher you don't need to bow, just stand up, here." He shoved a scrap of parchment into the elf's tiny hand. "This is where Hermione lives. I need you to listen carefully, she has a husband and a daughter, she doesn't know anything about magic or that she's a witch. You cannot be seen. I need you to spy on her, give me reports in case she leaves. Her husband is a dangerous man, you have to protect Hermione if he figures out you're there. Her daughter too, bring them here if you think he's on to you. She's going to fight you, she doesn't know about elves. You can't let her stop you. Do you understand Kreacher?" Kreacher nodded, looked at the parchment and was gone before Harry could say anymore.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around Hermione having a kid, it doesn't seem real." George told him.

"Tell me about it," Harry responded. "She said it was an accident, but Hermione doesn't have accidents like that, I think her husband must have planned it. She's so young to be a mother, but she seems good at it."

"Well she's been mothering you and my brother since she was eleven, so I'm not terribly surprised. Although, Angelina's going to be jealous. We've been trying, did you know? She's not thrilled your house elf interrupted, if you know what I mean." George gave Harry a wink that made him distinctly uncomfortable and Harry groaned. "On that note, I think I'll go home, you need some rest anyhow. We'll sort this tomorrow, yeah?"

Harry just nodded and gestured vaguely to the fireplace. So he supposed there was a chance he had feelings beyond friendship for Hermione. As if he needed one more complication thrown into this disaster. He didn't make it to his bedroom, instead he drug his exhausted body to the sofa in the sitting room and fell into a fitful sleep.

The next day he knew he hadn't slept enough. His limbs still felt heavy with sleep and he could barely lift his frame from the sofa. He dragged himself sluggishly into the kitchen. Kreacher had yet to return so he'd have to make do with toast, he wasn't interested in cooking.

After a meager breakfast that still sat heavily in his stomach, Harry wasn't sure what to do with himself. Kreacher had yet to return and even though he could use more sleep he was certain it would evade him.

He had even considered paying Dumbledore another visit, but was afraid it may frustrate more than help him. In the end he had found himself spending most of the day reorganizing Hermione's things, the few he had, and his collected notes. It was tedious and did nothing to calm his mounting nerves at Kreacher's continued absence. George had stopped in briefly, to see if Kreacher had returned, and left just as quickly to help with the rush of Hogwarts students flooding Diagon Ally.

Night was falling before Kreacher finally returned. When he did he was bloody and holding Lily, she was nearly his size and he wobbled dangerously under the weight. The child was screaming for her mother and Kreacher made no move to comfort her, just set her carefully on the floor.

"Kreacher, what's happened to her?! Where is Hermione?!" Harry shouted over Lily's continued sobs.

"Kreacher is injured Master Harry, not the baby," and as Kreacher said it Harry noticed the deep cut above his bulbous right eye. Blood was pouring into his face and he swayed as though he might soon faint.

"What about Hermione, Kreacher?! Where is she?! Can you take me to her?!" Harry's mind wouldn't slow, every nerve in his body had become terror, pure adrenaline and fear. His breath came in short, terrified pants. "Can you take me to her, to Hermione?!"

"Kreacher can take you, Master Harry, but Kreacher is too injured to help Master Harry. Missus Hermione, Missus Hermione's husband, he's a monster, Master Harry, a wolf. Missus Hermione told Kreacher to take Lily to you, she is dead now, Master Harry. She's dead."

Harry felt as though he'd had a building dropped on him. No. No she wasn't, she couldn't be. He would save her this time. He hadn't three years ago but he was going to now. Kreacher had to be mistaken. Harry took a deep breath, "Kreacher, listen closely. Take what I say next as an order, do you understand?" Kreacher nodded and blinked more blood from his eyes. "You're going to take me to Hermione, and her husband, and no matter what, you will leave once you've gotten me there. You will come here and take Lily, take her to George and Angelina Weasley, and you need to tell George where I've gone, do you understand?" Kreacher nodded again. "When you have done that I want you to go to Hogwarts and find Hagrid, tell him I've asked him to patch you up, let him Kreacher. Can you remember all of that?"

Kreacher nodded again and stretched his hand out for Harry to take. Harry took a steadying breath and felt the pull of apparition as he disappeared.

 **Authors Note:** So the next chapter, Conner's identity will be revealed. I will tell you that he is not a character of my own invention. Conner Slate is an alias I created for an existing character. I intend to update again before the weekend is out.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hermione's Husband

When Harry appeared in the cottage it was a very different scene than he'd experienced two nights before. The horrible metallic smell of blood filled the room, and the pop of Kreacher's departure was little more than a pin drop over the pounding in his head. His eyes went to Hermione first. Her prone form was splayed on the rug of the sitting room. She was so very still, covered in blood, horribly pale. Her throat had been torn open, it was grotesquely mangled and blood poured freely from the wound. There was a long, open scratch that ran from her right temple under her chin, it too, was bleeding and staining her frizzy blonde locks. Her bloody figure felt in such stark contrast to the pristine room around her, with its almost Dursley-ish cleanliness and homey furnishings. It didn't even feel real.

Harry dropped to his knees beside her and felt traitorous tears slip down his cheeks. This was the image that visited his nightmares come to life, the fear that had been his constant companion the last three years become real and physical in front of his eyes.

That's when she moved. Harry sobbed at the sound, she was there. When she spoke it was a near-whisper, "Harry?" He nodded and tentatively touched her blood-wet curls, "did Kreacher get Lily?"

Harry nodded again, "she's safe Hermione, George has her. She's safe." He softly reassured her.

"It's him, it's Greyback, Conner, he's Greyback, Harry." She breathed.

Her eyes fluttered shut and Harry pleaded with her, "Hermione, please, stay with me. Don't do this. No, no, no. Come on Hermione." He begged.

"I warned you Potter, I told you what I would do if you came back." Harry heard his chilling voice behind him and he turned with his wand drawn, it was removed from his hand almost lazily into Greyback's. Ropes sprung forth from Greyback's wand and tied Harry to the floor beside Hermione. He had been short-sighted once more, to come alone, knowing he would be distracted, unfocused with Hermione so near death. Greyback no longer resembled his Conner persona, he was as Harry remembered him, terrifying and wolf-like, even away from the full moon, more monster than man. "As I was trying to explain, do you know how I knew you were there? Under the cloak?"

Harry didn't bother to respond, he had nothing to say to this animal and the longer they sat here discussing it, the longer Hermione bled on the floor. He didn't have time to listen to the explanations, he intended to get them later, preferably from a cell in Azkaban. He struggled further against the ropes that bound him and shot another worried glance at Hermione's too-still body.

"I could smell you, Potter, did you think I would forget the stink of self-righteousness on you?" He gave a dark chuckle, "and that house elf, only too happy to do your bidding, right after sending your mutt of a godfather off to his death. Did you think I wouldn't recognize the elf that spent the better part of your fifth year skulking about Malfoy Manor? Foolish as ever."

"What do you want with Hermione anyway, what's she matter to you? You hated us!" Harry shot back. He was desperately hoping George would appear, he wasn't doing a very good job of figuring his way out of this on his own.

"I hate _you_ Potter," Greyback corrected. "I hate you, but your little mudblood friend? Her, I had a fondness for." He gave another dark laugh, "When I took her I just wanted to kill her, to taste her. It was so easy, I stunned her while she slept in the castle, tucked away in that little tower. Once I actually had her, I realized, I could do so much more than kill her. I wanted my own children, and she could give them to me, and hurt the great Harry Potter in the process. It wasn't easy, she fought me, fought the new memories, I had to confund her nearly every week, at first. I planned to kill her after the second child. I could turn them into wolves, raise them as wolves. Instead, you found us, and now? You've killed her. I need you to know that Potter, before you die I need you to know you cost her her life. She was happy, she loved Conner, and you've killed her."

Harry was feeling the desperation creep up and cloud his vision. His heart hammered against his ribs and Hermione was becoming frighteningly pale. He wasn't sure if she still drew breath, he certainly couldn't see the rise and fall of her chest he needed as badly as he needed the oxygen that filled his own lungs. He turned to Greyback's looming form and did the only thing that occurred to him, spit in his deformed face.

"How dare you!" Greyback screamed, "crucio!" Harry felt it before he heard it, he had nearly forgotten the horrible pain of this particular unforgivable. It came rushing back in a wave of agony and even with his monumental effort to keep himself from crying out, a scream of pain was ripped from his lungs. He begged for death, anything to end the pain. The misery refused to cease, he could feel his aching muscles straining against the horribly constricting ropes, powerless to control it. Through his watery eyes he could see Hermione, her life fading fast, if she wasn't already gone, and he begged her forgiveness in his mind, if only because he knew his own time was short. His focus was limited to her soft blonde hair and deathly white cheeks, the last image he'd ever see, burning in his darkening vision like a promise. The pain was threatening to overwhelm him and he didn't want to go, didn't want to leave her, but wanted desperately to escape the awful pain that was currently setting his entire body on fire.

Suddenly, blissfully, it was over, and Harry heard George's voice as though from a great distance, "fashionably late always makes an entrance, wouldn't you say, Harry?" If he'd had the ability, Harry would've hit him.

"Hermione, get Hermione, George." Harry croaked instead. His body would not cooperate with his desire to move in her direction and he could barely lift a shaky arm to gesture toward her.

"Blimey." George breathed heavily, he was still attempting to sound light but Harry could hear the fear seeping into his tone, and the sudden whisper-like quality his voice held, as though speaking over a grave. "Greyback's stunned Harry, I'll be back for you." Just like that, George was gone, Harry wasn't sure how he'd gone or where, but he'd taken Hermione with him, and that was enough. It was enough to allow Harry's heavy eyelids to flutter closed, and his exhausted body a moment to rest.

Harry woke to more pain, horrible, stomach turning, pain. He screamed harshly, his lungs searing from their recent abuse. If he'd thought he'd exhausted his ability to scream, he was quickly disavowed of that idea. His body seared with the pain of the spell and his chest burned with his screams. Until blackness loomed the edge of his vision and he heard Greyback's voice once more, "where did they take her, Potter?! Answer me! I'll kill you, do you understand?! Crucio!"

"I don't know!" Harry shouted insolently, "and if I did, I'll still tell you to go to hell!" He spit again in Greyback's general direction, though he knew he did not reach his target. He wouldn't go down without making it perfectly clear that he'd sooner bunk with Neville's parents than risk Hermione's life for even a moment. "Kill me, you fucking coward!" Harry screamed, ignorant to his own position of weakness, powerlessness. Greyback approached his useless form. He could do nothing to stop it so he shouted, "do it! I'd rather die than give up anything, you monster!" Then he was screaming again. Screaming as though it might save him, as though it might save Hermione. His chest was burning, his heart ached with the pressure, then, the world was wonderfully quiet. Black, and quiet and exactly what Harry had begged for, and he still asked for her forgiveness. "I'm sorry Hermione," and the last words he spoke, the last words he thought he'd ever speak, were to her, "I love you."

For Harry, the world went black.

 **Authors note:** Good work, CastleHHR and DianneBaquiran, for the detective work!

I will say that the name Conner means "lover of hounds" in certain cultures and Slate is a synonym for Grey. Kudos to those who sorted it out. I also chose the name Conner because there was a similarity to a 'con man' in the title. Which he is, in my fictional imagination.

Although McLaggen was a good guess, he does seem a likely character, so sleezy.

Also, Lily is absolutely Greyback's, there will be no magical way she ends up being Harry's.

In my real life I have an extraordinarily demanding job and this has been an especially trying week. Like a more than 50 hour, trying week. I normally write chapters on my extremely rare breaks, which is why it took me a while to update. I apologize for the delay. I admit that during this particularly trying week, your reviews meant the world, so thank you. Thank you very much for your support, it means more than you could know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note:** I realize there is a significant amount of time between my last update and now, for that I sincerely apologize. My life is hectic and because of that I write on my phone and then transfer it to my computer to post. Well, my phone took a sink dive, and this entire completed story, along with all my connected timelines and dates, and many other stories, were lost. Considering how many people on here also write, I think you'll understand just how horribly discouraging that was, and it didn't exactly make me want to get behind a keyboard again. However, I am sorry, hopefully this chapter makes up for it a little bit. It is an important chapter, containing a conversation I had planned from the fic's inception, but it doesn't contain a lot of action.

 **Chapter 7**

 **St. Mungo's**

When Harry's eyes next opened he was almost surprised that it could be done. The way his head ached it seemed to take everything he possessed to perform such a simple task. He supposed this meant he wasn't dead. Although, if 'not dead' was the best he could say for himself, that wasn't saying much.

He stared blankly at a stark white ceiling above him for a few moments before the silence was broken by George, somewhere to his left, "'bout time, starting to think Greyback had done you in, would've been a terribly boring way to go, all things considered."

It took nearly all of Harry's strength to turn his head in the direction of George's voice. When he'd managed it, George gave him a mischievous smile, "you should see The Prophet, whole world wants to know what The Chosen One is doing in St. Mungo's, printed a rumor yesterday you got drunk and flew your broom straight into a window. Though, now that I think of it, they may have gotten that quote from 'a close friend.'" George snickered a bit.

"Hermione?" He asked softly. He was surprised at the tearing pain in his throat and the horrible way his voice sounded like it was being drug through broken glass.

George's face was serious in an instant, "she's alive, but it's touch and go. She hasn't woken up yet, healers don't seem terribly confident, to be honest with you." Harry should've known this would be the case, but it still drenched him in a wave of pain. He didn't realize he'd begun crying until he felt the tears slipping down his cheeks and George looked away.

"Lily?" Harry asked next. He knew she was fine but with her mother in the state she was, he still worried for her.

"Staying with me and Angelina. Cute kid. Bit weird though, quiet. Mum's spoiling her." George looked thoughtful for a moment before he changed the subject, "it's been two days by the way, Ron's not as angry with you as he was the first day, so that's good for you. Kingsley and my parents are still in a bit of a snit." He chuckled at that. "Speaking of, why didn't you even tell me?"

Harry sighed, "it all happened so fast." He croaked, "I was afraid she'd die if I didn't go right away. How's Kreacher?"

George chuckled, "he's alright, Hagrid sorted him out pretty quick, won't leave my house, driving me crazy to tell you the truth." There was a bit of noise in the hallway and George sighed, "here they come, healers have been fussing over you so much you'd think you'd saved the world or something."

A moment later a woman of about forty stepped into the room, her hair was pinned neatly on her head and her face was stern. She reminded Harry of McGonagall a bit. "Good afternoon Mr. Potter." She began quickly, "my name is Healer Hannah Adley. This is the Spell Damage Ward; can you tell me your full name please?" As she said all of this she was running her wand over every inch of Harry while a quill and a clipboard floated along beside her, furiously taking notes.

Harry swallowed. "Harry James Potter."

She nodded, "excellent, do you know how you got here?"

Harry thought hard, "not exactly, but I think it was probably George. I blacked out."

She nodded again. "Everything looks fairly normal Mr. Potter, you will probably need a few days but I'm confident you will make a full recovery. Is there anything you need?"

Harry nodded, "water, please, and can I go see Hermione?"

Healer Adly adopted an even more stern expression, "Miss Granger is being treated on the first floor, for creature-induced injuries, her condition is very serious, and she has only been allowed limited visitors, perhaps when you're stronger Mr. Potter." With that, she swept from the room, followed closely by her quill and clipboard.

"What exactly happened anyway?" Harry asked George.

"Well, I portkeyed in the first time and took off with Hermione. It took me some time to get back, I had to get her here. I knew I couldn't go back alone so I went straight to The Burrow, Dad contacted Kingsley and me, Kingsley, Dad, and Ron all went back together. Greyback had come to while I was gone, and you were out, not sure for how long. Kingsley arrested him pretty quickly, he's in Azkaban for now, he'll get a trial." George told him quietly, "tomorrow Kingsley is going to question him under veritaserum, I think he wants you there, so they can put together a timeline."

He looked like he wanted to continue but before he could, the room was invaded with redheads. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, followed by Ron and Ginny, made their way cautiously into the room. Everyone looked a bit awkward and Harry really wished someone would break the tension. As it happened, Mrs. Weasley was the one to finally do it, "how are you feeling dear?" She asked softly.

"Sore." Harry told her. The air was still tense, and Harry sighed, "you're all mad at me, go on, let's have it. I'm not dying."

Ron was the first to speak up, "you found her, and you didn't even tell me Harry, how many times did I help you try to find her and you don't even tell me? Now she might not even live, and I didn't even get to talk to her!"

"I know," Harry responded, "you're right, but it was complicated." Ron still looked rather put-out and Harry continued, "I thought he was going to kill her, I was scared. I still should've told you. I'm sorry." Ron huffed and stomped out of the room. Harry supposed that was fair, it's not like an apology was going to make her less nearly dead, as much as Harry himself wished it would. Since Ron and Hermione had entered his life, Harry could count on one hand the number of things he'd ever actually kept from either one of them. Now, when Harry had, arguably, the most valuable information he'd possessed in 3 years, he had kept his mouth shut.

Before anyone else could speak, Healer Adly had returned, she set a glass of water and a pitcher on the bedside table and began to usher everyone out of the room. Harry wished she hadn't, it was boring to sit alone in the hospital room, thinking of Hermione fighting for her life a few floors below him and every mistake he had made that led them both here. He remembered Greyback's words and they haunted him, 'She was happy, and you've killed her.' He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried to will the pain to the back of his mind. He was only moderately successful and a few moments later, he fell into a fitful sleep.

Harry woke again later, he assumed it was the middle of the night, since the ward was dark and quiet, and he was alone. He felt much better than he had when he'd woken up that afternoon and he decided to see if he could get up. As it happened, he could, but not very well. His legs didn't seem to want to support him and he was out of breath just getting out of bed. He leaned heavily on the bedside table to steady himself.

He really wanted to get down to the first floor to see Hermione, but his body didn't seem to want to corporate. He groaned in frustration. He needed help if he was ever going to make it to the lifts. His wand had been set on the bedside table and he slipped it into his pocket before making his way to the door. For only being half the length of the room, it was a horribly long trip and by the time Harry reached the handle he was panting. He could feel sweat on the back of his neck and the walk had already exhausted him.

When he opened the door, he was shocked to find Ron on the other side, his arm was outstretched as though he'd been about to open the door himself. There was a beat of silence before Ron spoke, "we've sort of been taking it in shifts, I'm staying her tonight, I think Mum stayed last night. I was down in Hermione's room, came in to look in on you."

Harry nodded his understanding, "can you take me down there? I'm having some trouble." He gave Ron a strained smile and Ron nodded and pulled Harry's arm over his shoulders. They made the slow trek to the lifts in silence. Walking with and being half-carried by Ron was certainly better than his earlier attempts but it wasn't easy.

When they entered the lift, Harry slumped down in the corner, panting and exhausted. "He nearly killed you, you know?" Ron started as the doors clanged shut.

Harry nodded, "yeah, better men have tried." Harry tried to joke but Ron glared sternly at him.

"I almost lost you both in one day, it's not funny." Ron shot back.

Harry hadn't considered that. Hermione and Ron were everything to him, if he had lost them both? It would be devastating, it would tear him apart. How must it have felt for Ron to visit them both in St. Mungo's? Harry felt a horrible guilt settle in his chest. "I'm really sorry Ron, you're right. I won't let anything like this happen again okay?" He told him seriously. Ron only nodded. Harry did mean it. If Hermione lived, he wasn't letting her get away again. She wasn't going anywhere without him or Ron. Not that she would agree to that, but that was his working plan.

When the lift stopped on the first floor Ron helped him to his feet and they, once again, began the slow trek to another room. From a chair near her bed, Harry inspected Hermione. She was still frighteningly pale, but she was much cleaner than the last time he'd seen her. Her hair was no longer bloody and had been swept from her face into a braid, it was still the horribly blonde he didn't like. The wounds on her throat and face hadn't healed much but they were beginning to. "They've got her on about a dozen potions a day, they're thinking she should be waking up in the next day or so, if, you know." Harry was glad Ron chose not to finish that sentence, he didn't want to consider that possibility either.

Ron brushed an escaped curl away from her face tenderly before sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. Harry's heart hurt, this is what he'd been afraid of, she'd return and then she'd be with Ron. He told himself it didn't matter, if she was in his life. Deep down, however, he remembered the conversation with Dumbledore, where the headmaster had implied he shared a fate with Professor Snape. Harry looked away and pushed those thoughts away, he had to, Ron was his friend.

Harry cleared his throat, "so when she wakes up, then what?" He asked quietly.

Ron glared at him again, "Katie isn't a consolation prize, Harry, I'm in love with her, I'm not just going to leave her." Harry tried to squash the relief he felt at Ron's words but couldn't quite get rid of it. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Ron wasn't finished, "which is good for you I suppose."

Harry looked at him in confusion, "what's it got to do with me?"

Ron shrugged, "well, it wouldn't do for us to get back together, since you're in love with her."


End file.
